


Grantaire's There and Back Again (and Combeferre Notices Things)

by ecrituredelafangirl



Series: Shenanigans [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcoholism, Enjolras's mom is really cool, Gen, Grantaire leaves, I gave them all a child two chapter things ago, Kid Fic, M/M, Pining Enjolras, but he doesn't know he's pining, fire and brimstone enjolras, parents who have trouble accepting things, there is a bit of, well the child is mostly Combeferre's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredelafangirl/pseuds/ecrituredelafangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire leaves for a while, then comes back. Enjolras misses him. Jehan becomes sad at the fact that he's gone very fast - and Courfeyrac worries for Jehan. And Combeferre's never realized how very blue Grantaire's eyes are. </p>
<p>Also, Emma's trying her damndest to learn to crawl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grantaire's There and Back Again (and Combeferre Notices Things)

Grantaire disappeared for a while after that. Combeferre knew – it was with Combeferre that he had left the enigmatic phone call ( _There’s just something I have to attend to – don’t worry about me. I’ll probably be out of contact for a while. Just do me a favor and count the days it takes for Apollo to notice I’m gone? Give me something to laugh about when I get back._ ), and so did Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel. Jehan and Courfeyrac had been promptly informed and Jehan gave a sad smile that not even Courfeyrac could cure for a while. He seemed like he knew something, the little poet, but no one could prompt anything from him. He remained tight-lipped but for a few sad verses. 

Feuilly seemed pretty well informed as well, saying that Bahorel had called him at work to lament the loss of his drinking buddy. Feuilly smiled gently as he informed him that he was sure it was only temporary. They were all sure it was only temporary. Grantaire was such a warm presence that it was almost cold in their little café room without him. 

Although that was nothing Enjolras’ fire couldn’t fix. (To his credit, it took Enjolras less than a week to notice the darker man’s absence – in fact, to Combeferre’s surprise, Enjolras addressed him about it no less than thirty minutes into the first meeting without him.)

A week, however, stretched into a month. Then two. Then three. They carried on as normal, with their rallies and protests (most were carried off without incident, but several resulted in arrests. Enjolras seemed almost _proud_.) But everything seemed a bit… _off_ without the cynic and no one could truly pinpoint why. 

Except for Combeferre who, even with a baby crying her way into disrupting his sleep patterns and slowly leaning to _move_ , knew his best friend better than anyone. 

It was Enjolras – that was why. Enjolras _missed_ Grantaire. Missed him sorely, Combeferre could tell, and he wasn’t even sure Enjolras knew yet. But it was affecting everything the blond man did. 

That’s why, when Grantaire turned up, almost five months after his imposed absence had begun, Combeferre gave him a warm smile and a welcome home. Then he returned to Emma, sitting up on the floor, before she could move anywhere (she was almost crawling and it was _terrifying_ ), and began to watch as everyone else greeted the prodigal. It was clearly a much warmer welcome than Grantaire had been expecting. 

Especially from Enjolras. Anyone could have told you that Bahorel would be loud in his greetings, his pronouncements of having missed his best friend assiduously. Anyone could have said that Jean Prouvaire would be soft-spoken about it, throwing his arms around Grantaire’s neck and really _smiling_ for the first time in a long time. Anyone could have predicted everyone else’s warm greetings, assurances that they were very glad he was back, _things just hadn’t been the same without him_. But no one would have assumed that Enjolras would do what he did. 

Except for Combeferre, of course, but he was exceptionally good at this kind of thing. 

Enjolras actually walked up to Grantaire, before the meeting began, and said hello. It was stiff, and awkward, but it was warm. And then he stuck out his hand to shake. Grantaire took it. And then Enjolras held on for far too long. 

When he let go, he left without a word, leaving Grantaire with an open palm that he quickly clenched into a fist, trying to cling to some of the warmth… Enjolras’ hands were always warm. 

And then, even better, Enjolras prefaced the meeting with a “Now that we are _whole_ again…” And Combeferre feared for a moment that Grantaire would cry.   
He didn’t, but it was a close thing. 

The meeting was shorter than the rest; it was summer and a lot of the boys were going home to visit their families. This included Enjolras and meant that there were next to no rallies coming up. (The only thing that could get Enjolras to postpone justice was a holiday with his mother; but even she couldn’t stop him from planning at least six events, drafting 4 and a half speeches, and trying to convince nearly every member of the wait staff at her restaurant of his cause while he was there.) Besides the fact that he had less to talk about, however, Enjolras also seemed almost distracted. After only an hour of speaking, he let everyone dissolve into their own personal conversations. 

“You okay?” Combeferre asked softly as Enjolras came and sat across from him. Enjolras waved him off, but he knew something was off. However, he also knew not to push it.   
“I have a 6:30 flight on Friday morning,” Enjolras said. He looked inquisitively over at his friend, an eyebrow raised. “You think you could give me a ride to the airport?” 

Generally, these things had always been unspoken between them – even with Enjolras’s strange preoccupation with flying at ungodly hours of the morning. If Combeferre needed a ride to the airport, Enjolras drove. If Enjolras needed a ride to the airport, Combeferre drove. However, since Emma had arrived, Enjolras had taken to asking for more things instead of just expecting them. And Combeferre was immensely grateful. 

“I believe so,” Combeferre answered. “Just give me a moment.” And then his eyes searched the room, first lighting upon Emma, smiling hugely, with Bahorel cooing at her, a huge smile on his face (Combeferre had thought leaving the baby with Bahorel would be a bad idea; he quickly found out that he wasn’t completely right – when the baby was with other people, Bahorel tended to forget she was there, slap them on the back really hard, or punch them in the arm. But, when he had her he was reduced to a mess of baby-adoring mush. Combeferre could already feel him lobbying for favorite uncle.) then his gaze came to rest on Courfeyrac in the corner, watching a very excited, very happy Jehan converse with Grantaire. 

“Courfeyrac,” he called gently, and the man perked up at the sound of his name. When Combeferre waved him over, he came expediently, stopping only momentarily to drop a quick kiss on the top of Jehan’s head. The poet merely beamed at him before returning to his conversation with Grantaire. 

“He’s happy again,” was the first thing he said within Combeferre’s earshot. He looked overjoyed as he dropped into the seat next to him. “I’m just… I’m so happy he’s happy again, you know? He’s just been out of it for months… And, I mean, I know how he gets – I knew what I was getting myself into when I decided that this relationship was going to work. But, I mean, Jesus… Sometimes he just gets so sad. And then he’ll drink until he heaves up the entire contents of his stomach, or he’ll smoke, or God knows what else and… I worry about him. Whenever he’s sad there’s this wretched knot in my chest and… I just… I’m worried. Most of the time I can cheer him up, you know. Most of the time. But, I’m terrified that one day, I won’t be enough and he’ll be too far gone and then I’ll lose him forever.” And, it obviously wasn’t what he had expected himself to be saying, Combeferre noted; but it was also something he had obviously needed to say.

“Does that make any sense at all?” Courfeyrac asked, looking imploringly up at his friend. Combeferre took a breath to answer when suddenly-

“ _Yes_.” And they both looked over to find Enjolras, an almost wild look in his eye, staring at Courfeyrac. When he registered the startled looks that both of his friends were giving him, he straightened up, tried to look a little less harried, but the wild look was still there. Combeferre softened a bit when he realized what it probably meant. “I mean, yes. That makes perfect sense. Of course.”

And Courfeyrac gave him a small smile, not truly understanding, but looking a little concerned. But, Combeferre reached over and laid his hand over his friend’s, just for comfort purposes. He reached his other hand out to cover Courfeyrac’s as well, and he smiled gently at both of them. Because one was in love with a Romantic, and the other was in love with a cynic, and neither of those could be easy. Especially with the amount of alcohol consumed. 

“So, uh…” Courfeyrac said, straightening from his near slump upon the tabletop. “Why did you call me over here?” 

Combeferre reclaimed both his hands before replying. “Ah, yes. You see, Enjolras has an early flight out on Friday morning-“

Courfeyrac nodded, his roguish smile back on his face. He turned to look at Enjolras. “Off to see mommy, are we?” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly. “O, shut it, Courfeyrac.” 

“And I was wondering if you could watch Emma for me that morning, while I drive him to the airport?” Combeferre continued, over their whole exchange. 

Courfeyrac threw a cheeky grin at Enjolras before turning back to Combeferre, his face thoughtful. “Ah, it’s early right? Cause I have a job interview that day.” 

“O, really? That’s awesome,” Enjolras piped. And Courfeyrac smiled at him again. 

“Yeah… For some unpaid internship at a law office,” he pulled a tragic face. “Maybe if I ask to do their taxes, I can get some calculating in there.”

“Tell us why, again, you are – or were, as it is – a pre-law major, when all you want to do is math?” Enjolras asked, his eyebrows raised. And Courfeyrac shrugged, looking just a little miserable. 

“My parents, mostly…” he sighed. “They were kind of expecting a straight, lawyer son, you know…to carry on in daddy’s footsteps.” He shrugged it off, a little smile on his face, “I figure since I can’t give them straight, I’ll give them lawyer.”

“You don’t owe your parents anything, Courfeyrac,” Enjolras said, sounding just a bit steely. 

“I know that,” Courfeyrac said quietly. “But this is something that I can give them without too much trouble. And if it means that I can keep Jehan without any stupid comments, then I am all for it.”

Enjolras sat back, still looking dissatisfied, while Courfeyrac turned back to Combeferre. “As long as you’ll be back before noon, that’s fine. The interview’s at one.” 

“I’ll probably be back around seven,” Combeferre said. “The flight’s at 6:30.”

Courf nodded. “Jehan and I’ll just sleep over again, if that’s cool with you.”

“That sounds fine,” Combeferre nodded. And Courf smiled at him, before standing and then grinning at Enjolras. “Have fun with mommy. Give her my warmest regards.” 

Enjolras raised a single wry eyebrow, his scowl still in place. “I shall.” And then Courf turned and began his way back to Jehan. 

“O, and Courf?” Combeferre called after him. He turned in place, his eyebrows shooting up quizzically. “Congrats on the interview.” And then he grinned again, before finally returning to Jehan, who pulled him in gently for a proper kiss on the lips. 

“He doesn’t owe his parents anything,” Enjolras said, as soon as Courf was properly settled. Combeferre sighed. 

“I know that. You know that. He knows that,” he said softly. 

“Does he really, though? Because he’s still doing it,” Enjolras said, looking properly perturbed. 

“He does, Enjolras, trust me,” Combeferre sighed. “I know it’s not ideal, but Courfeyrac has made his choice. Not everyone can have gloriously accepting parents.” And that made Enjolras pause for a moment. When he had come out to his mother, she just smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, saying that she had known all along – whenever he wanted to introduce her to his boyfriend would be fine!! 

Sometimes he needed a reminder that not everyone was his mother. 

“I know you don’t like it – I don’t either – but I respect Courfeyrac’s choices,” Combeferre said slowly. 

Enjolras still looked dissatisfied. “People should just accept these things though. People should want their children to be happy. People should not force upon their children preconceived notions of what is ‘right’ or what is ‘normal.’” 

And Combeferre understood. It all made him very angry as well. Especially where Courfeyrac’s happiness was involved. He understood the separation, however, between ignorant people who were willing to be educated and people who were ignorant by choice. Enjolras was only beginning to see a difference and Combeferre was helping him to realize that the former only needed to be educated, while the latter (among which, it seemed, Courfeyrac’s parents numbered, unfortunately) were the ones he needed to rail at – fire and brimstone and all the passion in the world. All of it could be contained in his friend’s eyes. Combeferre knew this. Combeferre loved this. 

“’Normal’ doesn’t exist,” he said softly. “And you are going to teach people that. On top of saving the economy, revolutionizing the education system, and changing nearly everything about child services.” And Enjolras looked up at him for a moment, a small grin on his face, before rubbing his eyes, looking slightly tired. Combeferre had told him Feuilly’s entire story not long after that meeting, five months ago. Enjolras had taken quickly to the cause of proper childcare. (Enjolras may not have cared for babies, but he knew that children numbered amongst the people – proper childcare was one his highest priorities.)

“Yes,” Enjolras said, firmly, his jaw set. “Yes I will.”

Combeferre was the nearly the last in the Musain again – as Enjolras had to pack or, more than likely, put off packing until the last possible moment by watching History Channel, writing dissertations against governmental corruption, and trying to recruit people while being inept at social networking. How he had gotten himself this friend, Combeferre would never truly understand. But he enjoyed it immensely. 

“So… How have things been?” the voice was soft, rough. Grantaire lowered himself into the seat next to Combeferre. He had Emma propped against his shoulder, mouthing at his shirt, his hand resting gently on her back, his thumb rubbing a pattern between her shoulder blades. Combeferre took a breath as he smiled gently at him. 

“Honestly?” he asked. Grantaire nodded. “A bit…lackluster. We missed you.”

And Grantaire snorted. “I’ve heard that at least six times tonight. I feel like it shouldn’t be so surprising anymore.” Emma had started at his snort and he shifted her position, bringing her down to cradle her gently against his chest. Grantaire didn’t normally move with such care.

“In my opinion, you shouldn’t have been surprised at all,” Combeferre said. 

Grantaire didn’t look up as he answered, “But you knew I would be.”

“I did.”

“You’re fucking magical, I swear,” he said, and then smiled up through dark curls with bright eyes that were shockingly familiar. 

“Jehan doesn’t like us swearing in front of her,” Combeferre said quietly. 

“And Jehan probably has a point,” Grantaire conceded. He shrugged slightly, trying not to jostle Emma. “I’m working on pulling back.”

And then there was a pleasant silence, stretching for several minutes between them. Until…

“You haven’t asked me, and I’m almost positive you want to,” Grantaire almost whispered. 

“What?” Combeferre responded, trying not to look as though he would pry. He didn’t want to pry. If Grantaire wanted to tell him where he had been, he would do so on his own. Combeferre had been born with divine patience for a reason. 

“Where I went…for five months. While you were all here, trying to conquer the world.” And he smiled a little at that – as though he thought they were amusing, yet admired them at the same time. Then he snuck another look at Combeferre before carefully adjusting Emma so that he could push his hair back from his forehead. 

“I was with a friend,” he said quietly and then paused. Combeferre shifted slightly in his seat. 

“Well, did you enjoy yourself?” Combeferre tried to say, but Grantaire held up a hand and smiled, just a bit. 

“And… I’m sober,” he said. “Which is weird, trust me. And if it’s weird for me, it’s probably weird for you. And it probably will be weird for everyone else. But I feel…pretty good. Better than I have in a while. Like, years a while. And I had to go away to do it… Because everyone’s… I honestly needed a little time by myself. I needed to think… And then when I realized that it was actually going to happen – that I was actually going to _get sober_ – and I just…wanted not to be here when that happened. And I have a friend maybe an hour away. So… I went and stayed with her for a while. I mean, she went through all of this too, a couple years ago. So, it made sense.” Combeferre nodded, staying silent – watching, waiting.   
“It honestly…I felt like shit going through it. But I somehow…did it. And my sponsor only lives about half an hour away, so when I feel like I’m about to shake apart because…well, yeah… I can call him.” 

And then Combeferre had to ask it. He didn’t mean to pry, but for a moment the more curious part of his brain took over his mouth and a soft “Why?” made it past his lips.   
Grantaire looked up at him, eyes slightly widened in surprise and said simply, “I’d been thinking about it for a while, actually. Talked to Jehan about it a couple times. I was… Honestly, I was tired. And we were just graduating college… And then she came along,” he said, and smiled fondly down at Emma. “And things were… I got some perspective I guess.”

Combeferre nodded, a sudden suspicion creeping into his thoughts. “Now, though, I feel a lot better.” Then Grantaire smiled and looked down, meeting Emma’s wide-eyed gaze. Her fingers had latched onto his right pointer finger and he smiled when he realized that she wasn’t letting go. 

“She does that,” Combeferre said almost apologetically. 

“That’s fine,” Grantaire said, waving his tone away with his left hand. “I did too at this age, evidently. My mother didn’t shut up about it.” He shrugged as he looked up at Combeferre. “I think it’s a baby thing, honestly.”

“A baby thing…” Combeferre repeated to himself as he watched Grantaire smile at Emma. He looked about thirty seconds away from kissing her forehead or nuzzling her downy skin. He looked like he adored her already, when she had merely spent 20 minutes in his arms. And Combeferre understood that – he’d been her father for 5 months now, he’d witnessed this phenomenon countless times – but somehow, on Grantaire, it looked different.

“Does playing group therapist ever wear on you?” Grantaire asked drily several moments later. Combeferre caught his gaze for a moment and smiled. “I just talked about my problems for half an hour and it only just occurred to me that this probably not what you were planning on doing with your evening.” He smiled sheepishly. 

Combeferre waved him away gently. “I’m always up for listening.” 

“I know, that’s the thing. It amazes me. I can’t fathom how you do it,” Grantaire smiled a bit. Then Emma whimpered and claimed every bit of his attention. 

“It’s almost bed time,” Combeferre said gently. And Grantaire looked up at him with dawning comprehension, before smiling sheepishly. When Combeferre nodded to the car seat, set on the ground, Grantaire slid forward and – with more care than Combeferre had ever seen him give anything in the entirety of their acquaintance – set Emma down. Then with swift fingers, he did all the straps. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. 

Then, in a flash he sprang up, turning slightly pink, and mumbling a goodnight to Combeferre. He was almost out the door when Combeferre called after him: “Grantaire!”

He half-turned in the doorway, a look of trepidation on his face. “I forgot to say congratulations. For everything. I’m proud of you, if that’s appropriate.” 

Grantaire looked a bit at a loss for a moment. Then he smiled, just a bit, and ducked his head. “Yeah. You can be whatever you want…uh… Thank you.” And then he gave a genuine smile. And then he was gone.

Combeferre looked down at Emma for a moment, taking stock of each feature on her face. It struck him sometimes how very unlike his they were. Her eyes were too blue, her nose too pointed, her skin too pale. He didn’t care about her biological origin, but he was, at this point, almost completely confident it was not him. He loved her to pieces anyway, sometimes ended up asleep with her resting atop his chest, his pointer finger secured tightly in her fist. She was his daughter, of course, in every way that mattered. 

But now that he’d seen Grantaire, finally, after five months away, he was struck with the thought that maybe she wasn’t just his daughter…that shade of blue wasn’t exactly common.   
But he’d keep his thoughts to himself, he supposed, as he picked up Emma’s car seat with a singular hand, and swung her back and forth a bit, to help her settle down for the night (she was always harder to put down after ABC meetings – generally more excited, more riled; Combeferre loved it, but sometimes he just wished she’d go to _sleep_ ). 

“Let’s get you home,” he whispered to her as he strapped her into the car. And, at her little yawn of a reply, he kissed her forehead as well, just as Grantaire had done.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner than this one. And I'm working on my characterizations. Sorry for any angst, please forgive me. I promise this is going to end happily. :)
> 
> Also, if anything is off or wrong about any of the things mentioned in the fic, feel free to tell me. Correct me. Anything. I'm always open to constructive criticism. I mean, I did do some research, but there's a million things out there that I probably missed. So feel free to give me a shout out if anything at all is problematic. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I love you all!! :)
> 
> (P.S. Here's my tumblr, in case you want to come visit: http://ecriture-de-la-fangirl.tumblr.com


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